Author's note: These are memories that I have kept locked away, for the most part, rarely, talking about them, to anyone. I know, these reactions, by me, are wrong, but the feeling of shame, anger, and frustration, were greater. After this past week, I need to release these memories, in a safe and constructive, thus, ending their corrosive hold, over me.

9 comments:

I hope writing this exorcised some of the pain, Therisa. I think part of police training needs to be sensitivity training, for the various situations they will encounter. Recent events show us all how much farther we need to go to create a more just society. Thank you for sharing this poem. See you in the Pantry tomorrow, kiddo.

I do not really understand how, except that they take boredom out on others... we live in a world where bullies are rewarded and compassion is seen as weakness... no wonder it happens, and those in power tries to exercise it on those that they feel will never complain.

It's a form of control, Bjorn, in that the police say, they need info, about us, minority groups. And yet, in Toronto, they refuse to release this info, to the general public. Never mind, much of that info is wrong.

Writing can be very therapeutic so I hope it has helped some. I can only imagine how awful these experiences must have been, and now to relive them. Bullies whether they are police or bosses or spouses or whatever seem to relish the control and pain they inflict. We have a long way to go in this world with accepting each other as human beings and treating each other with loving kindness....much love to you Therisa.

Valid emotions, I think, in the face of such behaviour and the recent reminders of it. But wise of you to understand it is better for YOU to release them before they corrode you further. (Different circumstances, but I once hated someone for many years for reasons I still think absolutely justified, and only managed to stop when I finally noticed that it was damaging ME.)

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About Me

A middle-aged pre-op transsexual, who coming to terms, with the screwballs that life has thrown at me. In dealing with chronic depression, various anxiety disorders and PTSD. My poetry is, often very personal, dark and sad.